


0

by firepixel



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Cuddles, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 12:52:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8209157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firepixel/pseuds/firepixel
Summary: 707/mc cuddles??





	

**Author's Note:**

> very short, like a very small apple pie in which seven's pov is in brackets and makes up the apples part.
> 
> fluff is a recipe i haven't yet tried before so please bear with me as i try to distract myself from the lemon monstrosity that the last part of fic 9 will be
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> ~~fic title comes from the amount of chill i have rn~~

there are many things you love about seven.

his eyes, for one thing. you've seen his eyes glow, sunlit, when he's happy; you've seen them crystallize to clear ice when he's focused, and burn hotter than the sun itself when he is angry.  
his hands, for another. he has long and slim fingers, almost delicate when he wraps them around your wrists and neck and hip. you've seen them dance around a keyboard and stir a pot of ramen. you've felt them on your cheek, gentle, the first time he brushed your tears away (he brought his hand up to his lips right after as if it was completely natural; for seven, it was).  
in the realms of the intangible, there's his dedication to you, your safety, your wellbeing. you love how he takes care of you even without you knowing, how he manages to do that without intruding on your autonomy - he works around you and not against you, his palms around your heart, enough to warm but never burn.

you love all those things, but you love these moments more.  
these moments go like so:  
you both work very hard. you are juggling dozens of emails from work, taking calls and making plans and collating lists of guests and other vital information all day - with your inability to actually go out, it drains you by the time it's evening and you've sent out correspondence to the guests in other timezones. he works - well, even harder than you, probably, what with his irregular hours and atrocious self-care. that sets the stage.  
you don't get these moments often; nowhere near often enough. sometimes, your schedules click just right, though, and you get the rare opportunity.

so it proceeds.  
he's usually on the couch, typing on his laptop, glasses balanced on the tip of his nose. he jostles them a little with each yawn. it's adorable. you pad over towards him ( _her feet make pitter patter sounds on the cold floor and her hands are drowning in the sweater she borrowed and her hair is messy from the long day and you couldn't love her more_ ) and push at his shoulder until he lets you curl up in his lap, laptop now balanced on his hip and your nose in his collarbone, forehead against his neck. ( _her breath comes in regular slow exhalations, hot against your chest, soothing in a way watching a candle is_ ) his typing slows; his nose buries in your hair and his cheek rests against your temple as he brings one arm up to curl around you, hand settling itself on your upper back. ( _she's a warm and steady weight against you and you can't really focus on your typing anymore when the steady rhythm of numbers replaces itself with the beat of her heart against your side_ ) you nuzzle at his neck, trying to warm your nose up from the freezing bite of the air conditioner in the other room, and bring your arms up into a relaxed hug around his sides. he sighs; shuts the laptop, slips it onto the coffee table beside the couch, brings the now-free hand in a slow slide up your back to tangle in your hair. pulls you properly into his lap, sinking back into the pillowed seats. ( _she slots into you like you're two puzzle pieces whose edges fit and you're not sure if you two make sense in the big picture but you do know this - her warmth, her pulse, her breaths_ ) you're already tired, and the proximity to him is melting the raw edges of exhaustion away into sleepy incoherence, like frozen butter on a stove. your eyes slip shut of their own accord when you lose the energy to keep them open, and your focus shifts to the feeling of his fingers carding through your hair ( _so soft and silky, she smells like cinnamon and apples ever since you got her that hair mask she wanted from the store three streets down, tempting enough for you to want a taste_ ) which makes you melt further into him, settling further into comfort as all of your edges and his align perfectly. he shifts in one smooth move; you're disoriented for a second before he settles you on his chest in the new horizontal position, hand finding its way back to gently stroke at the back of your neck. it's soothing, and it draws your sleepiness out into something even sweeter and heavier. the last thing you remember is a gentle kiss against your hair, in response to a murmured 'i love you' against his chest - you're not sure if you managed to make it loud enough, but you're very sure he heard anyway.  
( _the last thing you remember is your lips against her hair, your own hushed whisper echoing her murmur - you're not sure if she was awake enough, but you're very sure she heard anyway._ )

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://dirkhals.co.vu)
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> trying to write fluff was like trying to eat candy while nauseous. in that i was hideously afraid of life and trying to imagine happy things anyway. i want happy things. i don't want to worry.  
> did it work, even a little?
> 
> bring ur own icing: if any of u have cute songs re:sleepy cuddles (or any cute chill songs in general) PLS tell me bc i have a severe chill deficit


End file.
